


Poor Frodo

by grootiswhatweaim4



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Spanking, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grootiswhatweaim4/pseuds/grootiswhatweaim4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is something I've had rattling around in my computer for ages, finally fleshed it out.<br/>Frodo is feeling the effects of the Ring and is struggling to cope, while Aragorn muses over his role as protector over the small Hobbit. Set during Fellowship of the Ring. Could be slash if you want.<br/>Lots of coddling of embarrassed, crying wee Hobbits</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wandering

Rivendale was proving to be not only to be an excellent place to hide the ring, Aragorn mused, but also an opportune place for Frodo to recover after his ordeal with the wreaths. He remembered the last few hours when he and the rest of the frantic hobbits had managed to reach the outskirts of the Elvin sanctuary. Arwen had been there to meet them, her beauty, though slightly weathered by her journey, was still great. Her face was peaceful as she put their minds at rest; Frodo would be okay. Aragorn had since managed to eat and rest for the first time in hours, his body thanking him after days of wild travel, the battle with the Wreaths and the panic as Frodo lay dying in his very arms. He left the Hobbits to eat their fill which was, naturally, their main desire after seeing Frodo securely nestled in an enormous, plush bed. After a meeting with Lord Elrond, Aragorn spent his leisure time conversing with the serene elves of Rivendale, reading, doing light exercise and checking on the little Hobbit he had already grown so fond of in the short time in his presence. It worried him he should feel so protective, he was not sure if it were merely the ring trying to ensnare him, but he found the effect grew worse when he was apart from the blue eyed Baggins, rather than when he was close by when the ring should have a greater effect.  
Aragorn visited him once or twice a day, briefly, to make sure he was still sleeping soundly. Samwise waited with all the patience of a good gardener and yet all the worry of a concerned friend. He sat by the bed for hours on end, departing only at meal times and to sleep. Aragorn was beginning to feel his contentment wearing thin. A lingering threat hung in the air. On the day before Frodo would awaken, visitors entered Rivendale; small parties of Elves, Dwarves, men as well as Gandalf the Grey. Aragorn’s heart eased when he saw both the elderly wizard as well as his old companion Legolas, the greatest archer in Middle Earth. However the union of all these creatures meant that not all was well with Rivendale. Aragorn spent that afternoon sharpening his sword.

***

The Fellowship had put a seven day distance between themselves and Rivendale. It seemed that a cautious optimism permeated the settled anxiety of the group as they strode over vast hills. They took refuge from open spaces among rocky outbreaks or small clumps of forest. Since their departure, Aragorn had mulled over his pledge of loyalty over Frodo. He watched the boy – for he really was really still a child in many ways, not least of all his height – who marched steadfastly in front of him, occasionally stumbling on a root but trying his damnedest to keep up with the party. The spirit of these Hobbits was greater than Aragorn had first thought. It made his heart swell with a strange kind of pride to watch them all fall to the ground at the end of the day, exhausted yet uncomplaining (aside from Pip and Mary’s jokes) as they began preparing dinner, a job they had allocated to themselves. No one complained as they were easily the best cooks.

One night, as Aragorn stood the first guard of the night as the others slept, he mused on the fate of little Frodo. The boy had been more withdrawn than even when they were being hunted by wreaths. He looked tired and saddened when they walked, putting a bright little smile on his face whenever Sam caught his breath enough to have a cheery conversation. Sweet Frodo, it was such a burden that rested on his shoulders alone…No, not alone, Aragorn thought with resolve.  
Just then, Aragorn heard rustling from behind him, amongst the sleeping party. He whipped around and saw a small, familiar figure leaving his bed, sneak out of the clearing and disappear into the dense wood. _What are you up to, little Halfling...?_ Aragorn wondered with annoyance at how Frodo so blatantly ignored the rule that they should never go off alone. This went double for the hobbits and triple for the ring bearer. Lithely leaving his post, he crept over to Legolas’ sleeping form and patted him awake gently.  
“Legolas,” he whispered, hoping not to disturb the others. Although, if they were tired enough to sleep with Gimli snoring like a bear, he should be fine.  
“What is wrong?” Legolas asked, sitting up and reaching a hand next to him for his bow.  
“Peace, brother,” Aragorn, smiling softly, “I need you to take my post and I will relieve you shortly. Frodo has wandered off and I need to bring him back.”  
“Foolish little one.” The elf said with exasperation, “It seems not his nature. But what brings on this sudden disobedience?” he asked, silently uncovering himself and straightening up.  
“He carries a burden far greater than he should. I’m sure he’s just too troubled to sleep, however I will talk to him about his thoughtless actions.” Aragorn promised with a glint in his eye. Legolas studied his face.  
“He could become unable to find his way back, fall and be injured or worse still; be killed by evil forces.” Legolas said with knowing in his eyes. He understood the fate that awaited the Hobbit by Aragorn’s hand.  
“Yes, I will make him understand this.”  
“Good.” Legolas answered. “However,” he added, his brows briefly knitted with concern, “Do not be too harsh on him, I am sure his folly had no intent and he is so small and still so innocent.” He paused again, “And bring him to me, brother, when you are done. I’m sure two rounds of comfort will not go astray.” He insisted with a small smile before taking his perch for the watch.  
Aragorn could not help but chuckle at Legolas’ affection for the Hobbit. Frodo did seem to have this affect on people. “I’m sure he will be grateful for it.” He said, putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder before departing, tracking Frodo’s trail in the darkness as Legolas used his Elf eyes to protect the rest of the Fellowship from harm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear god how have i left this for so long - I'm terrible. On uni break now though so should have next chapter up in the next few days xx   
> Also this is really short :/

Despite the dark, Aragorn was able to find signs of recent movements on the ground below him. He became more concerned as the minutes went on and Frodo seemed not to have stopped but rather kept stumbling through the forest. The ranger grew sick with worry as he realised they were further from camp than he would have liked to be. He made deliberate markings for himself so that he could find his way back with ease. The traces of evidence than marked Frodo’s path began to swerve and change directions, going in circles. Frodo must have tried to find his way back at some point. Eventually the trail stopped at the base of a large shrubbery. 

Aragorn moved silently, eyeing the surroundings warily. No sign of a struggle. His attention was caught by a small sound, a little whisper.   
“No, stop it, stupid Hobbit,” it muttered angrily. It was Frodo’s voice and it was most definitely coming from inside the shrubbery. Aragorn let out a long, silent breath of relief.  
He knelt by the shrub, noticing a small gap big enough for a hobbit to slide under without being scratched by bushes.  
“Frodo,” he said in a low, calm voice. A gasp and short scuffing noise, then,  
“A-Aragorn?” Frodo’s little voice quavered.  
“Come out from under there.” His voice was still calm and steady; however the powerful authority behind his words was unmistakable. A blue eyed hobbit scampered out; his face was one of suppressed fear and shame. His eyes were glassy.  
“I’m sorry, I - I got lost.” He mumbled sheepishly, not making eye contact. Aragorn let that sentence hang in the air for a moment, letting Frodo’s discomfort continue until the young hobbit glanced up at him, before jutting his head back down.

“Frodo,” Aragorn began, aware of how his voice was heavy with disapproval, “This is a grave and serious mission. As such there are rules – the most important of which is one cannot wander off alone - especially at night and especially if one is unable to defend themselves.” Aragorn said. Frodo winced a little.

Oh how pathetic he must think I am, Frodo moped in his mind. Shame began to burn his face as he was lectured to as if he were a child. Although, he admitted, his actions were stupid. He had just needed to get away from the others. He needed space. A place where no one lusted after the ring, or worked so hard for him which he couldn’t appreciate it because he was just so miserable all the time. It was like a bubble would burst in him and with each day it grew larger. Solitude calmed him and allowed him to forget for a few moments of his task. He was ashamed to cry when the great warriors around him were stoic, brave, when he was, quite simply, not.

“Frodo, I’m going to punish you before I take you back to camp.” Aragorn stated, gauging the other’s reaction, his voice still dripping with a calm authority. Frodo tried to suppress a shiver and, unable to speak out of apprehension and shame, said nothing. His gaze was on the ground and he dare not shift it to meet Aragorn’s. Before he knew what was happening, He felt arm wrap around his middle as Aragorn propped him under his arm. In shock, Frodo only let out a little cry of surprise. Was Aragorn going to throw him? Crush him? To his utter humiliation he felt himself being carried like a rag-doll over to a large fallen tree where Aragorn sat down and quickly hoisted the hobbit over his lap. It was then than Frodo’s mind and voice box connected once again.  
“Aragorn!” he said, his voice high and panicked, “What are you doing? You – I - wait!” he garbled, frenzied, as Aragorn used an arm to secure him. Frodo’s mind was in a state of shock. Surely the man could not really mean to do what he thought.  
“You have earned a trip over my lap Frodo for acting so unwisely.” Aragorn explained for Frodo’s benefit. The boy was near to hyperventilating, his little body trembled. He was surprised with himself he was not putting up more of a fight. Without wasting any more time, Aragorn found the hem of the Hobbit’s breeches and, with a yelp of panic from Frodo, tugged them down to reveal the tiny rump he would, regretfully, soon turn pink.  
“Aragorn, wait, let me go! Stop!” There was a more desperate edge to the Hobbit’s voice. As Frodo wiggled he thought he saw tears spilling over the young one’s face, which was now beet red. The little thing wept already out of upset. Aragorn felt his hand hesitate in the air at the sight, feeling guilt threaten to stop him. It was clear Frodo was distressed, embarrassed and frightened so he decided to get this damned deed over with lest he back down altogether.  
“The rule was to keep you safe, Frodo, I intend to make sure you remember that.” regret seizing Aragorn’s resolve as he swung his arm.

The first blow landed and a small sound – more of surprise than anything else – escaped Frodo’s lips. His brain struggled to comprehend what was happening. The world seemed to be moving far too quickly for him to keep up and yet it was painfully slow at the same time. Speaking of pain - the stings were eventually morphing together from individual swats into a blur of heat and discomfort. He dared not move, he could barely breathe. All he managed to do was cry quiet, defeated sobs that he desperately tried to swallow. After a few minutes the shock had worn off and the full gravity of reality was gnawing away at him. He was being spanked like a babe. By Aragorn none the less. The man he admired possibly more than any other. He tried to gather his composure and implored Aragorn.  
“Please, p-please” he managed to get out, his voice thick with humiliation and trembling. He felt his resolve grow weaker by the very second.  
“Not yet, Frodo. You have to understand how your actions affect you and those around you. I was sick for worry when I thought I had lost you in the darkness.” Aragorn said kindly, not being able to bring himself to answer with true chastisement. He heard Frodo whimper and he counted methodically in his head to distract him from the little hobbit’s tears which the boy in question was consistent in wiping away.  
“I’m sorry, A-Aragorn!” He cried out, going slightly limp in his arms. The human knew he could not have hurt the Hobbit so greatly physically just yet (though the few minutes had felt much longer for both) and thus the realisation of Frodo’s actions must cause him to apologise. Aragorn sighed in relief; he need not continue if Frodo had truly learnt his lesson. Aragorn made the last five really count and Frodo sobbed and whimpered on his lap, his hands covering his face. Aragorn began rubbing the small one’s back. “All done, Frodo, you did admirably.” He murmured in what he hoped was a comforting tone. The small Hobbit seemed not to register his words but instead wiggled backward to get off of Aragorn’s lap. The tracker indulged him and helped Frodo by gently placing him back on the ground. Once he stood, head bowed but face undoubtedly pink, neither moved for the moment as Aragorn waited until Frodo had the chance to calm himself down slightly. Mercifully, the hardest part for them both had finally ended.


	3. Chapter 3

Frodo felt like the silence (if you ignored his gulping and sniffling which he was trying very hard not to do) was swallowing him up. The utter shock was wearing off but it was still very hard for the little Hobbit to process what had just occurred. Aragorn, a man who he respected and admired so very much had just treated him like a babe. No Hobbit was spanked past their tweens, not even the most mischievous. Frodo could not look the ranger in the eye, could not speak. Luckily, Aragorn seemed to grasp this a eventually, after Frodo’s breathing had calmed almost completely, took hold of the conversation.  
“Now, master Baggins, we have something to discuss.” He said calmly. He noticed Frodo cringe and flinch away slightly. Poor little thing was still very flustered. Aragorn held his arms up, making sure Frodo could see his offer for an embrace, “But first, some comfort I think, don’t you?” he asked. Again with the wincing.  
“Please, Aragorn, there is no need to treat me like a child.” He argued, but it sound more like begging, to his chagrin.  
Aragorn frowned. “I am treating you like a friend, come, don’t scorn my offer, I want to make sure you are alright.” Aragorn said, gently taking the Hobbit’s wrist and guiding him over to his lap again. He propped the hobbit on his thighs, noticing the hiss of pain when Frodo had to sit down. Frodo tried to resist wiggling around but he was in quite a bit of discomfort, and didn’t protest when Aragorn held him close.  
“Now, is there anything you wish to say to me?” Aragorn asked lightly, tucking the Hobbit’s head under his chin.  
Frodo tensed at these words. “I’m sorry,” he muttered out, panic lacing his words.  
“Yes, little one, I know.” Aragorn placated, “I mean can you tell me what is troubling you? You wandered away from the group to be alone and I think it would do you good to share your thoughts.” Frodo seemed to curl inwards at that statement, shifting his body and face away from the view of the Ranger.  
“It is nothing worth discussing,” he said in a tired voice. Aragorn frowned.  
“I doubt that very much, Master Hobbit”  
Silence for a few moments. “I just suppose I am not handling the Ring’s power as well as I should do.”  
Aragorn sent him a pitying smile, “Frodo,” he cajoled, “you carry a burden greater than all of us and still you manage to carry on. Needing a break, or feeling yourself become overwhelmed it is not a moment of weakness, it is a mark of how strong you have had to be.”  
In his own shock of hearing such kind words contrast so deeply with his current inner monologue of self loathing, Frodo looked up at Aragorn. His blue eyes were wide and pleading.  
“You truly do not see me as hopeless?” he asks. Aragorn tried not to let the surprise of this statement show on his face, he compromised by hugging the other close to him, Frodo’s head in the crook of his neck.  
“Oh, Frodo, who has been filling your head with such things? How could any person in all of middle earth think that of you?” Frodo could not find an answer, his head reeled with various emotions he could barely keep himself from dissolving into tears once again. He felt a kind of warmth grow inside him; relief that the fellowship were not bitterly disappointed in him. It was so great, and came on so suddenly, Frodo almost forgot had been spanked like a babe and was now being coddled like one too. 

Aragorn awoke Frodo from his musings by placing a wayward curl behind his dainty elven ear. Startled by the touch, Frodo jerked from the touch and his face blossomed anew with heat. Brilliant blue eyes peeked up at him.  
Aragorn smiled warmly back at him. He would be lying if he claimed that Frodo was not one of the most adorable sights in all of Middle Earth. “I think it’s time to wander to back to the others, don’t you?”  
Frodo hesitated, nodded and dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir,” he stammered.  
The ranger frowned. “No, none of that Frodo. I was Aragorn to you this morning and I am Aragorn still to you this evening.”

Frodo gave a weak, slightly watery smile at that response but found he no longer wished to make eye contact. Aragorn mercifully lead the way, letting Frodo trail behind dutifully. The Hobbit let his mind wander as he paid attention only to the place he would next step. He did, however, notice that there was a fair bit of distance between where Aragorn had found him and the camp which added to the warm shame settling in his stomach.  
When they reached the clearing, Aragorn turned to Frodo and held an arm out to stop him from rejoining the sleeping group, undisturbed by their arrival.  
“I should not think I will need to, but I wish not to have to repeat tonight’s events, Master Hobbit.” Aragorn murmured, placing a warm hand on Frodo’s shoulder.  
Frodo suffocated an affronted squawk and merely nodded. He went to pull away but the hand drew him back. He looked up, his eyes were all but imploring Aragorn to let him return to his bedroll and forget the whole evening.  
“It is not a threat, dear Frodo, but I reminder. I have promised to go with you until the end, if I am able and I am your friend. Do not think you must suffer alone when you are surrounded by those that love you.”  
Frodo could only gape. Aragorn chuckled and ushered the little figure to bed. He watched with amusement as the Hobbit scurried back to his kin-fellow and nestled himself next to Sam, hunched over on the foetal position. 

“What cruelties did you enact on him to have him scurry off like that?” a mellow voice spoke in elvish from the shadows. Legolas lithely jumped from a low hanging tree branch and landed next to Aragorn, barely disturbing the earth when he did so.  
Aragorn smiled back at his friend’s remark and answered so that even if overheard, the two would not be understood, “You know if I had felt it necessary he would not be able to move so quickly just yet.” Legolas chuckled.  
“I am glad you were not too harsh on him, it is undoubtedly just the presence of the Ring that causes him to act so.” Legolas was getting rather wise in his old age, Aragorn thought.  
“Indeed, he does not wish to appear weak, but I explained that he had not only protection but also kinship with each of us in the fellowship should he need it.”  
Legolas only nodded, his eyes shone in the moonlight.  
“I think it best you get some rest yourself.” The elf suggested “The walking is not treacherous yet, I can stand to watch until the Dwarf’s turn.”  
“You have my gratitude, Legolas,” 

*** 

As Frodo curled himself up in the bedroll, his mind swimming with emotions, he noticed in the silence the sound of murmuring. He didn’t dare turn to look but he was almost sure it was Legolas speaking in Elvish with Aragorn. Frodo felt his face blossom anew with heat. Surely Aragorn would not relay the events of the evening to anyone; much less Elvish royalty!

He did not dare move an inch until long after he heard the rustling of Aragorn settling down for the evening. He peaked around despite his own exhaustion and even in the dim lighting, his eyes could clearly make out the trim figure leaning against a tree. Legolas raised a hand in silent acknowledgement of the Hobbit’s gaze and Frodo whipped his head back around, burying his face into the bedroll, skittish at being caught. 

As he tried to relax and drift off to sleep he managed to convince himself that the small, delicate chuckle coming from Legolas’ direction was purely a figment of his own imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torn between wanting to give this an ending and just write more and more pages of shameless fluff haha
> 
> I think I've put it to bed though. Frodo is too much fun to write though I highly doubt it will be too long before I have a new story for him x


End file.
